For the Nights
by WhoGivesaFck
Summary: Can what started off as an act of rebellion turn into so much more? AU Rogan.
1. Chapter 1

_For the Nights  
Summary: Can what started as an act of rebellion turn into something more? Rogan AU._

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**Important Notice: **__This is a repost of Chapter One with modifications. Changes are mostly at the end. In order to comprehend what is happening in Chapter Two reread the ending to this chapter.  


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Chapter One

They all knew. Everyone knew. And no one bothered to be discreet about that fact. All eyes were locked on Rory Gilmore as she stepped through the halls that Monday morning. Heads turned to looked at her as the whispers started. "That's her, you know, the girl I was telling you about."

By the time she reached her locker Rory had already considered making a run for it three times. She should have known better than to be surprised that the big news had been leaked already. News such as this had a way of coming out especially when you didn't want it to. But, still, Rory remained surprised.

The school rarely paid any attention to her. She was a fly on the wall for the most part. She liked it that way, too. The only times she can remember any of her peers monitoring her movements had been when she was the New Girl starting school past the beginning of the semester in her sophomore year. The entire school had been in an uproar. It was expected and almost wanted that she would fail, the students could not understand why they had let her into the school in the first place. She was from Stars Hollow, Small Town USA, not exactly a member of the club. She was an outsider. Chilton Academy was anything but accepting of outsiders.

So, naturally, they watched her.

Quickly, however, the school realized she was anything but interesting. The only threat Rory Gilmore was capable was beating Paris Geller's top academic records. Rory had the privilege to watch Paris' face turn several shades of red when she beat her to answering a teacher's questions. An interesting side-affect that always brought the briefest of smiles to Rory's face.

By the end of her first month Rory was old news. Only Paris and her two best friends: Madeline, and Louise, remained interested in Rory. Paris seemed to live by the Godfather standard of "keep your friends close and your enemies closer". So, although it was Paris' goal to intimidate Rory into failing, or, when they were partnered together, to scare her into succeeding, she remained the closest semblance to a friend that Rory had at Chilton. For that fact alone Rory was almost grateful to Paris' paranoia. It guaranteed Rory at least several quasi-conversations a day, which filled her quota for human interaction.

With a lack of a social status at school Rory was left out of the spotlight. But now, with the revelation of the news, Rory was suddenly cast back into that spotlight now equipped with double the wattage.

This was Chilton Academy after all. The school lived and breathed gossip. A learned trait, Rory was positive, from their parents who found the practice especially useful at society functions when conversation was lacking. Gossip spread through the school like wildfire even when it was a mundane piece of information like Louise hooked up with the captain of the La Cross team, in the janitor's supply closet - again. So, it shouldn't have been that big of a surprise to Rory that such a juicy piece of gossip would already be all over the school, even before the first bell.

Every one was speaking abut it, although no one would come right out and ask Rory about it. It was as though they would rather use their small snippets of information to create elaborate stories that were far from the actual truth, and much more twisted. It was that, or they already knew everything - every last detail. She wasn't sure which she preferred. At least, she reasoned, the made up stories could later prove to be amusing.

No one spoke to her until lunch. Not that she tired to make conversation with anyone that day. Even the teachers avoided sending questions her way, not that she would have answered them. She'd been keeping her head down, staring at, but not seeing, her notes as she avoiding eye contact with her peers. She didn't want to attract any more attention to herself.

Then, as she sat, earphones plugged in, book in hand, picking at her lunch, the dreaded questions were posed. It came as track three skipped almost seamlessly into track four. Unluckily for Rory, but not wholly unexpected, the question came from one Paris Geller.

"So, is it true?"

Rory choked at the noise on what may have very well been her own spit, her fingers twitched enough for her book to fall to the floor, but she did not answer Paris' question, much to the dismay of Paris and her lackeys. Instead, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and slowly leaned over to pick up _Brave New World_ as The Clash began to sing, "Should I Stay or Should I Go?". She flipped slowly to the right page in her book. She was about to feign reading when Paris cleared her throat and eyed her exasperatedly.

She had two options, deny it, or come right out and say, "Yes, its true." She was torn. She wanted, nay, she needed someone to share the burden, but she also wanted to keep it to herself and hope it would go away. Confirming the new would make it all the more real even more so than the small bruises on her arm where she had spent the weekend pinching herself. However, Paris, Louise and Madeline were some of the last people she would ever confide in. Her first choice would have been her mother, but talking to Lorelai was no longer an option.

Denying the fact was pointless. She knew everyone knew. She sighed and pulled out her earphones. Rory chose to respond to the girl's question with a combo of neither confirming, nor denying. "What have you heard?" Her voice cracked from disuse.

Louise and Madeline looked at Paris bewildered, they clearly thought she would deny it at all costs. Paris reached into her messenger bag and pulled out three newspapers: the _Hartford Courant_, _New York Times,_ and the _Boston Globe_. All of which were folded over at the society pages, which Rory usually skipped over when she read the papers. Three articles were circled with red ink. Rory gasped, though she shouldn't have been surprised, as the uninspired headlines jumped out at her.

The news really was out.

"Heirs to Wed", "Sweethearts headed to the Altar", "Ready to say, 'I do". The articles were merely small announcements, but it seemed that the whole of the East Coast had seen them no matter their size.

It dawned, then, on Rory. This was real. It wasn't some twisted nightmare.

All she wanted to do was raise her head self-assuredly and look right into Paris Geller's eyes and tell her off - for being a bitch, for kicking her when she was down, and just because. When she did raise her head she saw Paris looking at her differently. The look was devoid of anger and harsh criticism. Instead, Paris' gaze was full of sympathy. In fact, they all looked at her the same. Madeline even leaned over and hugged her. Not knowing what to do, Rory just let the girl hug her. It was almost comforting.

Quietly, Louise's raspy voice announced with only the slightest hint of panic, "I think we need a change of venue." The four girls had attracted the attention of the other students in the cafeteria, obviously hoping to gain more insight into the ground shattering news.

Out in the corridor was better, quieter, and emptier. No one was looking at Rory here. Thanks to Paris' withering stare none of the students in the cafeteria had followed them. Rory couldn't help but be grateful to Paris' ability in inflicting fear in the bravest of people. She couldn't help but think there was an ulterior motive to the girls' helping her. They couldn't suddenly be compassionate, could they?

That was when she realized it wasn't just sympathy the girls held in their eyes, but pity as well.

Bitingly and uncharacteristically, she sneered, "Well, the secret is out. Confirmed, even. What are you going to do with this information, anyway?" She looked at Paris. "Put it in the Franklin?" To Madeline and Louise she added, "Perhaps you'll make an announcement over the loudspeaker. You know, to make sure the people who don't read the newspaper hear about this."

She was being childish. She knew that, but she couldn't bring herself to regret what she had said. Letting her anger get the better of her was oddly liberating. She felt calm.

The girls didn't even flinch during her tirade. Paris actually scoffed and Madeline just hugged her again. "It'll be all right," she promised.

"No," Rory sniffed, "it won't."

Her statement loomed in the air. No one contradicted her. None of them knew what was going to happen. Who knew if things would ever be all right again?

She had no where to go, no one to run to. Everyone and every odd were against her. She couldn't even depend on her father, wherever he was. Christopher hadn't even shown up to the funeral. His phone was disconnected as well; she couldn't even contact him.

The smallest of sobs escaped from her.

Paris looked around. "Lets get her outside before we get an audience."

With Madeline keeping Rory erect and moving, the girls began to lead her to the exits. Paris glared sharply at anyone who passed them in the halls. Rory felt numb. She couldn't even bring herself to care when Paris sent a scrawny freshmen boy scampering into a girls' bathroom.

They never made it outside.

As they turned the corner they were greeted by the sight a two figures. Even through her tears Rory could tell what it was.

Tristan Dugrey had a girl pushed up against a locker - her locker to be exact. Their mouths were working fervently against the other. Even from their distance it seemed to border on painful.

The boy was recently back from military school. Reasons for his return were still ambiguous. No one knew if he had been kicked out or let loose for good behaviour. He wasn't volunteering the information and no one sought to ask. Dugrey was definitely no the same boy who had been sent to military school for prankster disobedience. He was changed and not in the good way.

He was no longer the misguided youthful prankster from her sophomore year. No longer was Dugrey suspended every other week for a badly executed prank, instead the boy just cut school for days at a time. Military school had not reformed Tristan Dugrey. The only improvement Rory could see was he now carried a perfect posture. Since his shocking return, Rory had not once seen the boy slouch even when he sat in the few classes he attended. His back was always perfectly straight. The military education did nothing to improve his behaviour either. He was now cold, distant, and downright mean. Rory had heard whispers that he was turing into a carbon copy of his father, which Rory now having met Mr Dugrey thoroughly believed. He was his father's son.

Dugrey seemed to believe he was superior to everyone else in the school. Not in the annoying cocky teenage boy way. He seemed to believe he was God's gift to Hartford society. He had a certain disregard for any rules the school had. When he broke one, which was much too often, he didn't care. He disrespected the teachers by referring to them by only their last names. When they spoke to him, he put them down, or completely ignored them; he'd just walk away. His lack of respect for authority figures was caused, the school suspected, from the year of being controlled by military commanders. Now Dugrey was free to disregard the teachers with the only repercussion being a three-day suspension.

Even Dugrey's behaviour with girls had changed dramatically. While he had been with many girls before his exile, his treatment of them had never been so bad. He used to, Rory learned from countless girls, take his time to woo and seduce the girl. Now he was with several girls a day without the pretense of buying them dinner before hand. When he was done with them he would cast them aside and pick up the next one. Rory couldn't believe girls still sought him out after what they all saw him to do to girl after girl. Rory had seen more than one girl sobbing once he was on to the next girl.

But here, once again, in plain sight, she was witnessing yet another girl - a girl who had been through his more than once with this boy - let herself be treated as some sort of toy for Dugrey to play with until a new and more attractive toy came into his possession.

"Maybe he doesn't know yet," Madeline naively suggested as she stared in awe . Rory merely raised an eyebrow at her. She had to work hard to contain the scoff that threatened to escape. Madeline was wrong. Tristan Dugrey was very well aware, after all, he was going to marry her the week after graduation.

She had learned of this news on the Friday at what Rory had assumed was just another stuffy dinner party at her grandparents' house. She'd been wrong - so very wrong. Though she should have known better.

A few hours before dinner her grandmother had approached her and demanded that Rory stayed on her best behaviour, and pointedly suggested Rory wear her dark blue dress - it would bring out her eyes. Right then Rory should have known; she should have been on her guard. It was only later that night that Rory recalled a scheming glint in her grandmother's eyes.

Dinner had been a quiet, awkward affair. The only conversations that took place had to do with the headlines from the three middle sections of the _New York Times_ her grandmother's bible in these situations.

The announcement came immediately after dinner once the party moved into the living room for after dinner drinks. Rory and Dugrey were given cokes. Rory watched the condensation run down the side of the glass. Her grandfather and Mr Dugrey never took their seats. They stood near the fire place looking serious. Richard straightened his bow tie and assumed a stance that Rory recognized as his business posture. At several times during the deliverance of the speech Rory expected them to pull out charts and spreadsheets as proof that this was best.

"As I mentioned to you earlier, Tristan," Allen Dugrey began, "we have an important announcement to make tonight."

Sitting much too close to her for her liking, Dugrey's face had a mildly curious expression as he peered at his father. She knew he was barely listening, though, as a barely noticeable smirk appeared when his leg bumped against hers once more. He was obviously not troubled by the fact that he had just finished having dinner at a house that had never once mentioned his family before that night, not even in passing and were about to share news that involved them both.

"Your mother and i have thought long and hard about your future, boy. We were at a loss as to what to do with you, but now, with the help of Richard and Emily we have come up with a worthwhile plan," Mr Dugrey continued.

Richard cleared his throat quietly and spoke in the soft voice that he had adopted a month earlier when speaking to her. "Rory, my dear girl, understand that we aren't doing this to hurt you."

Weren't they?

"You'll understand one day, Rory. This is all for the best - to secure your future and Tristan's," Emily added.

Rory didn't believe them, but before she could ask Mr Dugrey began again. "Both of your pasts aren't particularly clean enough for this world. Things are expected of you, and Tristan you always fall short. You've been causing trouble for this family since you were a child, Tristan. You were always getting your hands dirty in one thing or another. You've crossed the line one too many times - a line, Tristan, that military school didn't make you see. There is only so much you can do that will be validated under the "boys will be boys" clause. Its time we face the fact that with your past behaviour it is very unlikely that you will be taken seriously as a lawyer unless changes are made now. Can you imagine a client ever trusting you, a delinquent, to represent them in a court of law? It's laughable even if you are a Dugrey."

Dugrey visibly cringed and Rory felt a small flicker of sympathy that was shortly lived.

"I thought military school was supposed to take care of that."

"It was meant to. But even the best laid plans backfire. A year down in North Carolina at the best military school money could buy and you come back no better than when you left. In fact, it appears your behaviour has worsened."

"Rory," Mr Dugrey continued, "is from a very respectable family. She will help restore your reputation and her family's. A good marriage will erase those unfortunate circumstances surrounding her birth."

Rory flinched this time. Those circumstances, Rory knew, meant her unwed teenage mother.

"This marriage is going to fix all this," Richard spoke softly, surely waiting for Rory to fly off the handle. "It's for the best. Now, Allen and I have pounded out a few things - property agreements, prenups - that sort of thing. We've come to a very fair agreement. I'm sure you both will be very pleased with the results."

Then Rory understood. She was being sold to erase her grandparents' shame.

Looking at Dugrey feel Summer up Rory knew she was seeing her future. Dugrey wasn't going to change into a monogamous man just because they were being forced to marry. Briefly she wondered if she would have affairs as well. Maybe she would keep seeing Dean after she was married. Or maybe she would become one of those women who hired those young and exotic pool boys only to take them as her lovers.

"Hey! Dugrey!" Paris hissed vehemently. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Paris had effectively startled the couple out of lusted bliss, if only for the moment. Summer sent Rory a look of gloating before gluing her lips back to Dugrey's. She pulled away with a wink and sauntered off down the hall evidently pleased with herself.

Dugrey just smirked, completely unaffected. "Did you enjoy the show?"

On a normal day her response would simply have been to roll her eyes at him and walk away. But things were different now. The smug air about him at that moment irritated however irritated Rory much more than his recent activities. She felt an intense desire to hit him. She had never hit anyone before, but something about this moment was making that act seem highly appealing. But she was on school property. Hitting her future husband would have to wait until later, so she settled for angrily hissing, "You're such an ass."

The venom in her voice didn't seem to daunt Dugrey. His smirk never left his face as he let out a wryly chuckle. "I expect that will be many people's conclusion once this little event gets out – just look at how everyone reacted to our impending marriage, darling. Imagine its only days after the announcement and the groom is already being unfaithful. The gossip mills will be working overtime today."

The smirk on his face said so many things. Above all, it said he wanted this news out. He wanted to hurt her. Rory couldn't help but wonder if he had been the leak to the papers.

She gasped and gave into her temptation. Dugrey caught her arm before she could reach his face. "Do not do that. Ever."

Something in his voice - it might have been the sudden coldness and anger or the authority he commanded - that had Rory struggling against his grip on her. She didn't trust him not to hurt her.

"I'm going to say this once, Mary. So listen up." He backed her into the metal of the lockers.

"Get your paws off her, Dugrey!" Paris hissed.

Slowly Dugrey turned his head to look at the girl. Rory couldn't see his face but whatever his expression was it scared Paris. "Stay out of this Geller."

The usually brave Paris Geller took a step back and said no more.

Realizing Rory was on her own with this confrontation she tried her hardest to conceal her fear as she looked from her captured wrist to her captor. "You can't touch me like this."

She knew it was a fruitless attempt at bravery. He could do what he waned; after all, there was no one in the hallway besides the three girls who seemed too frightened to come to her aid.

"No?" He seemed to ponder her words for a moment before a leer appeared on his face. "How would you prefer I touch you? Like this?"

Rory couldn't even make a sound of protest. She was too in shock. Tristan's hand released her wrist and within seconds he had both his hands on her. One hand moved to her thigh that was thankfully covered with a layer of nylon. The other hand went to rest directly under her breast.

"Is this better?"

It wasn't. She much preferred the pain that came from him crushing her wrist. This, what he was doing now, was making her feel dirty and used. She was just a toy to him and that's all she would ever be. This though, oddly didn't make her feel sad or unworthy as it may have coming from someone else, but angry.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't touch me at all. Ever."

"Impossible, babe, we're going to be married," he smiled sinisterly. "I almost can't wait for the big night, can you? I'll finally be able to stake my claim in you. I'll be able to take the Mary in any way, shape, or form and nothing will ever stop me. All this power I will have over you once you say 'I do'."

Rory felt uneasy. She didn't like the sound of that at all. In fact it sounded like he was going to rape her on their wedding night as well as any other time he ever wanted to sleep with her.

She didn't voice her concern. However, she did roll her eyes. "How romantic. Are those your vows?"

"You joke, Mary, but just know that your life and body now are mine. They belong to me."

Affronted, Rory cried out vehemently, "No they don't! I do not and will not ever belong to you as long as I live!"

He laughed again.

"That prenup you signed says otherwise."

Rory's eyes widened. She felt the same sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as she had felt when she had been forced, crying, to sign on the dotted line. She had signed her life away to the devil incarnate.

He leaned back into her. "I can't wait to collect my prize: I will de-Mary the Mary. And I'll savour every moment of it."

His fingers traced the opening of her shirt.

"You'll never touch me Tristan Dugrey let alone be the first!"

Paris seemed to come back to life, then. She grabbed Rory by the shoulders and steered her down the hall, not before giving Dugrey a look that could kill.

Rory felt panic. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't do much of anything. She kept mumbling. "Never. I won't let him. He can't be the first. Never."

Louise knelt next to her, and in a move Rory didn't know her aloof character could allow, hugged her. "I'll think of something," she promised.

Tuesday morning started ominously. Louise was waiting for her at her locker.

"This is all I can come up with." Louise handed her a crumpled piece a paper and assured her it was self-explanatory.

She waited all day, until she was alone in her room before she opened it.

_Hell no._


	2. Chapter 2

_For the Nights__  
Summary: Can what started off as an act of rebellion turn into so much more. Rogan AU.  
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**_Important Note:_**_ Sorry for the long wait. But here it is: Chapter Two. You have to, at the very least, reread the ending to the first chapter, since I rewrote parts of it. This chapter may be confusing without it._

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Chapter Two

Coffee. The rich, warm ambrosia was a lifesaver to any Gilmore. It was a well known fact to anyone who knew them. They thrived on it. Coffee helped to solve all their problems. Fights had been reconciled over a steaming cup, frostbites had thawed quickly in its warm embrace, and all-night study sessions had been achieved by drinking copious amounts. Rory mused over the alleged magical ability of her beloved hot liquid, could coffee solve her current predicament? Could it save her? Or was it just childhood hope?

Sighing, Rory looked down at the small, now coffee stained, piece of crumpled paper. She had read its contents over many times. She could easily recite it from memory, although there were not many words, only a few scribbled lines. But those lines said volumes. She took a sip of coffee and reread the note. The words hadn't changed. Reluctantly Rory admitted to herself that coffee was not going to work a miracle and make her problem disappear. Its likely use would be to simply keep her hands occupied.

Despite the liquids questionable lack of potion-like effects, Rory somehow found herself outside in the campus quad. She was able, somehow, to mask most of her terror. She was pale and slightly shaky. Her appearance was similar to how she felt right before she took her SATs.

Although she was outside, she could hardly hear the bustle in the quad. Although she knew the couple sitting at the bench were arguing audibly, she didn't catch a word of it even though she noticed the crowd that had gathered to conspicuously watch.

This had become common for her. She often found herself drifting. Rory was often distracted, for her mind was much to full.

Rory had been like this for days. She had compiled pro-con lists, paced for hours, and spent several sleepless nights agonizing over the note and its implications. She always came to the same conclusion. How could she go through with it and remain her? She couldn't. It went against everything her mother taught her. She wouldn't do it. It would be a disgrace to her mother's memory.

At least that had been her decision until Friday.

Several events occurred consecutively that made that decision void.

Everything changed.

Rory came down to breakfast already dressed in her school uniform. She noticed, but ignored, her grandmother's nod of approval. Apparently it was not proper for a young lady to come down in her pajamas, no matter how tired she is or how early inn the morning breakfast is served (For 6:30 is much too early a time when school starts at 8:30 and she lived a mere five minutes from the school).

"Rory dear," Emily said, rousing Rory slightly. At the head of the table, Richard lowered his newspaper an inch. "Your grandfather and I have been discussing it, and we think you need a car." She smiled expectantly at Rory, but when she did not show the appropriate enthusiasm for the gesture, she continued, though slightly less chipper than before. "Only you need to get to school and functions with something." Richard gave a nod of agreement.

Rory frowned. "I have a car."

Richard "tsked" and raised the newspaper.

Emily sighed, and Rory could tell she was trying not to roll her eyes in exasperation of her granddaughter's density. "An appropriate car," she said, and perhaps in hopes of placating Rory she added somewhat too late, "dear."

Rory had been driving her mother's old Jeep. The beast, as Rory mentally liked to call the vehicle, was beat up and dirty, and often leaked liquids Rory was positive were not supposed to be that colour. Despite the Jeep's disease like excretions, Rory harboured a special place in her heart for it. It had been her mother's after all.

The part of her that loved and pitied her grandmother realized Emily likely did not like to be reminded of her only daughter and their rocky relationship. But the angry and more dominate side of Rory could only believe that Emily was doing this to erase Lorelai and recreate Rory into the Lorelai they had always wished her mother to be. This wasn't merely frustration and hurt that led her to this conclusion. She had overheard Emily telling Richard that she wanted a new family portrait to put over the mantle. The current painting depicted a fifteen year old Lorelai standing, somewhat awkwardly, between her proud parents. It was clear the new portrait would see an uncomfortable Rory between two proud grandparents. Some may see the gesture as sweet, Rory saw it as treason.

When Rory got back from school that day she found Emily in her mother's old bedroom that had already been converted into a preteen's bedroom complete with boy band posters. Needless to say, Rory hated it. She preferred her room in Stars Hollow.

"Really Rory, what is this?" Emil emerged from her closet and held up a pair of old jeans. The legs were frayed and there was a large tear in the knee. "This is not proper attire for a young girl in your position. What would people say if they saw you walking around in these?" Emily looked scandalized. "They'll think you're homeless!"

Rory shrugged. "They're comfortable."

"They have holes," she shrieked sticking her fingers into the tear. "How could your mother let you run around dressed like one of those refugees you see on CNN in those little countries next to Mexico?" Emily turned back into the closet and let out another shriek. "These clothes are completely inappropriate." She suddenly smiled brightly and Rory knew something terrible was about to occur. "I'll have to buy you a new wardrobe! Yes. Pastels for spring..."

That said, Emily waltzed, dazed, from the room. It was Rory's turn to look scandalized. She had a sudden vision of her dressed identical to her grandmother in sweater vests and pearls. Next thing she knew her grandmother would be inducting her into the DAR.

"But I can buy my own clothes," she said, whimpering softly, to an empty room.

She was blind-sighted again that night. The Dugreys came for dinner. The whole affair was awkward and uncomfortable. Emily and Mrs Dugrey did most of the talking. Although Rory didn't bother paying attention she knew the topic was likely the upcoming wedding ("Rory you need to be thinking of these things," Emily chastised her. "The date is approaching fast!"). She kept her eyes focused on her dinner, that is, until Emily turned and looked at her expectantly with a wide smile on lips.

"What?"

Emily's face tightened, and Rory knew she was holding back a comment. "Tristan has something for you, isn't that nice?" Emily said through slightly gritted teeth, her eyes imploring her to behave - or else. Rory could just hear what her grandmother was attempting to telepathically convey to her "Do not embarrass me". Emil turned to Dugrey. "Why don't you take Rory out onto the patio, dear, its rather warm out tonight?"

Rory stiffened. She had made it her top priority not to be alone, even for a moment, with Tristan Dugrey - especially since the incident in the hallway. It turned out this wasn't as hard as she first thought it would be, for Dugrey seemed to be avoiding her presence as well, which was all the better for her. Rory had the feeling Paris was responsible for his absence.

Outside the atmosphere was strained. Neither spoke. Neither looked at the other. But the two knew that Emily and Mrs Dugrey were peeping from behind the curtains. Suddenly the garden lights began to glow. Rory couldn't resist the eye roll, the things her grandmother thought were romantic… She snorted.

Dugrey looked round at her noise as though only now noticing her presence. "Right," he seemed to mumble to himself. "I'm supposed to properly propose," he said, this time louder so she could hear, and nodded toward the house.

"I'd never accept."

He smiled, somewhat ruefully it seemed for a moment, but the next he was smirking unrepentantly. "You've no choice."

With a roll of the eyes and a shrug, he deliberately dropped to a kneel in front of her. He held out an opened ring box. "Well," he said when she did nothing. "Take it."

His proposal was not what her grandmother would have termed "proper", but from the space between the curtains that Emily was spying behind, it may as well have been.

Rory was disappointed. Not only in the groom, but in his conveyance. When her mother had been proposed to it had entailed a thousand yellow daisies, while hers was impatient and reluctant.

The ring was worse. It was oversized, the diamond blinding. Her grandmother was insane to think she would actually put that ring on in public. Damned if it was only proper. She would not wear it. The ring was a billboard advertisement for what her life was about to become. Empty, but filled with shiny, expensive things.

With another eye roll, Dugrey slipped the ring onto her finger. The ring had barely any weight, but her hand suddenly felt overwhelmingly heavy.

Rory was still staring woefully at the ring when she decided to call him. This decision ultimately led to her current position on the note. Dean Forester was familiar. He was home. Naively, deep down she though of him as a last hope. And if Rory wanted to be technical, he was still her boyfriend though they hadn't spoken since she moved to Hartford.

He took a long time to answer. A clue she missed. She'd nearly given up when he finally picked up on the sixth ring. His greeting was both rough and strained, but she would only realize that later.

Suppressing a sob, Rory whispered hoarsely, "I need you."

A moment ticked by. Then two. "Right," he said calmly. Politely. But she missed that too. Thats why she gasped loudly, her heart plummeted, and she suddenly felt like vomited the little supper she consumed, when he said, "I hear congratulations are in order."

Then it happened. Her world split in two. Her ties to her old, happier life, were severed. Just like that. Who did she have left?

Through her terror and her sobs, she managed, "how?"

He laughed bitterly. Cold. "Taylor gets the _New York Times_ delivered."

Oh. She knew that. "Oh," she said. What else could she?

"So. Congratulations."

"Dean, I…"

"Save it Rory," he said bitingly. "I let you have your space after Lorelai died. Then you go find comfort in the arms of the accountant? Why are you calling? Did you two have a fight? Or did he already get bored?"

No other words came to her. She just cried. Dean stayed on the line for a few more minutes. She heard a soft, almost tearful, "Goodbye Rory," then the dial tone.

He was gone.

Emily's actions, whether knowingly or not, were destroying the life Rory had always held so dear. Her independence, her friends, control, and - as her mother would no doubt agree - her soul.

She needed to control at least one aspect of her life. And there was only one thing she could think to do. It may be irrational, but the overwhelming chaos her life had turned into was scarier.

She retrieved the note from the front pocket of her bag where she had stashed it.

Now, here she was.

Two boys were walking several feet in front of her – although, perhaps "boys" wasn't the right word to describe them. They were several years older than she was – twenty, maybe twenty-one. They were at the age her grandmother would describe as "young men" having not quite reached the older generation's standards of what true men are. One of them was tall, but walked with an exaggerated slouch as though he were having trouble staying awake. The other was shorter, but held himself tall – he jutted out his chin in a superior manner. It was hard to tell whether this was from arrogance or confidence, or both.

Under normal circumstances, Rory would not have looked twice at the frat boys, but then she heard a snippet of their conversation. She stayed unnoticeably close.

"Let me get this straight," the taller of the two boys, drawled. He had an Australian accent that accentuated his tiredness. It was thick, slow, but Rory couldn't tell if he was purposely exaggerating his accent, either to avoid being asked if he were British or to flaunt his unusual heritage. "Huntz is going to bed some girl he has never met, so that she will go home to her betrothed as used goods?"

"So it seems," the shorter boy said sounding rather bored with the conversation. His head followed a blonde in a short skirt. He licked his lips in anticipation, a hunger brewed in his eyes; Rory rolled her own in disgust.

"There must be something seriously wrong with her, then." The Australian suddenly sounded more awake by the excitement of the possibilities. He seemed to image several amusing circumstance, for a smirk appeared on his face.

"Like what?" the shorter boy pondered, he too smirked, though rather wickedly. "She was in a horrible life altering accident and now looks more gruesome than Mr Hyde?" he offered crudely, raising his eyebrows.

The Australian snickered. "Poor Huntz. Maybe she'll wear a bag over her head for the big night." He smiled widely, revealing a set of perfectly straight white teeth that have yet to be found in nature.

The other boy shook his head, but Rory could see he had an amused expression flitting across his features as he contemplated the possibility more thoroughly. "Huntz will be disappointed."

They had reached a large building, she knew housed a dormitory. She watched as the two boys stepped in through the door. The Australian looked back as he went in catching sight of her. He winked. "All right, love?"

This was it. Her last chance to back out.

Suddenly as a bride gripped with cold feet, she fearfully wondered, What if she went through with this and then discovered a way out of this mess?

Her eyes widened. Her breathing quickened.

It was decided. She wouldn't do it. She turned to leave.

Ah, her cynical side questioned, taking on a philosophical tone, but what if she doesn't do it and she never finds a way out of the labyrinth that had become her life?

What would become of her then?

_To sleep perchance to dream_, she quoted silently to herself, _ay, there's the rub_.

In a manner that was reminiscent of Emily Gilmore, Rory squared her shoulders with determination and marched into the building.

The door she came to a stop in front of was of plain wood - standard issue. She glance unnecessarily at the scrap of paper. She already knew she was in the right place.

_Logan Huntzberger. Suite 12. Branford Hall. Yale University. 555-6397._

She could do this. Couldn't she?


End file.
